


The Other Side Of The Wall (The Lipstick And Eyeliner Remix)

by listerinezero



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Genderswap, Masturbation, Mistaken Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listerinezero/pseuds/listerinezero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erika knows she shouldn't get involved with Charlotte, who has eyes for someone new every night, but she can't stop thinking about her anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side Of The Wall (The Lipstick And Eyeliner Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helens78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Other Side Of The Wall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/589657) by [helens78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78). 



> Big thanks to helens78, who has written so many great fics that it was hard to choose only one.
> 
> And thanks always to unforgotten, who is just the best.

Charlotte brought a banker back to the motel: some Wall Street type with his hair slicked and his tie clipped, who looked at Charlotte like she was just another thing he deserved, along with his Italian shoes and his six-figure salary. He looked like a walking date rape to Erika – not that she needed to worry too much about Charlotte. One of the perks of telepathy was that, if Charlotte ran into someone who meant her harm, she could literally change their mind.

This also meant that Charlotte could get a little careless with her encounters: men, women, bikers, businessmen, baristas, librarians, tattoo artists… barroom bathroom stalls, the backseat of the car, an alleyway… If anyone caught her, she could make them forget it. If anyone tried to take advantage of her, well, they couldn’t. She’d take the thought right out of their head. Despite the pouty lips and short hemline, Charlotte was the one in control, no matter whose hands were between her legs. When it came to sex, telepathy meant Charlotte could afford to be a little careless.

“I’m not careless!” she told Erika when they were seated at the bar. “Honestly, what sort of person do you take me for? I do use protection, you know. And I check their memories for any history of abuse or sexually transmitted diseases.”

Erika fingered the stem of her wine glass as she watched Charlotte toss her thick brown hair over her shoulder, her earrings dangling against her long, porcelain neck. A week earlier there’d been a hickey there, and Charlotte had borrowed one of Erika’s turtleneck sweaters to cover it. It was too tight, and by the time Erika got her sweater back, it was stretched in the chest and smelled like Charlotte’s perfume. Erika found herself staring at Charlotte’s neck, dreaming of marking it herself this time.

“I’m just saying that you might consider taking a few more precautions,” said Erika. “If anyone tries anything with you – ”

“They won’t.” Charlotte’s eyes – and mind – were elsewhere. She was scanning the room for someone to scratch that night’s itch. Erika noticed that she kept lingering on the bartender, a petite dark-skinned girl with almond eyes and a wide smile, but Erika hoped beyond hope that Charlotte wouldn’t choose a girl this time. It wasn’t that Erika was interested in anything happening between her and Charlotte – that would be too complicated, she told herself. It wasn’t an option: not while so much was at stake, not while there was work to be done, and definitely not while they were required to spend every waking moment together for the next three weeks, searching for other mutants. But even though Erika knew that there could be nothing between them, it hurt a little less when Charlotte chose a man.

Charlotte chose the banker guy.

“Do you, uh, want to come in and join us? For another drink maybe?” the banker guy asked Erika as they stood outside Charlotte’s motel room door. “We can make it a party, if you know what I mean.” His hand was on Charlotte’s waist, and he was leering.

“I think I’ll pass,” Erika sneered, and unlocked the door to her own motel room.

The banker guy shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said.

Charlotte winked at Erika and followed him inside.

When the door closed behind them, Erika finally opened her own and turned in for the night. With the blinds drawn, she stripped her way into the bathroom, tossing her leather jacket, black blouse, and jeans onto the floor, toeing off her shoes and kicking them into the corner. She wore only a single bracelet; Charlotte wore lots of jewelry. It took three soaked cotton balls to get her eyeliner off; Charlotte didn’t wear much eye makeup, but she was a lipstick fiend. Every pocket, every bag, every storage place in the car had lipstick in it. If Erika had lips like Charlotte’s, she thought, she might wear lipstick, too.

It seemed like everything reminded Erika of Charlotte lately. As she stepped into the shower, she remembered how they argued that first night when Erika had steamed up their entire hotel room. When she lathered the shampoo into her short brown hair, she thought of all the products Charlotte carried around with her to tame her waves. Erika shaved her legs, watching the razor move up her thigh. That banker was touching Charlotte’s thighs, just on the other side of the wall.

And good Lord were those walls thin – Erika was the one who’d been insisting they not spend too much money on hotel rooms, but as she got out of the shower and toweled off, she decided that she was going to have to rethink that. It was worth an extra couple of bucks for Erika to not have to hear Charlotte giggling at someone else’s jokes while she climbed into her own bed, all alone.

She tried not to listen. She turned on the television. She read her book. But all Erika could hear, all she could think about, was Charlotte, just on the other side of that wall.

Of course, Charlotte wasn’t the only mutant who used her mutation to get off. As far as Erika could tell, all mutants – or at least all the ones she’d met so far – honed their powers through sex. And Erika could make a vibrator out of nearly anything.

She summoned her bracelet from where she’d left it on the top of the dresser. Today it was a bracelet; sometimes it was a necklace, or a key, or a knife. It was a lump of platinum-cobalt alloy, and now, as she turned off the lights and lowered the volume on the TV, it was smoothing and shaping to fit comfortably in her hand and between her legs.

The sounds from the next room were muffled now, as Erika’s hands disappeared beneath the motel sheets, as she began to touch herself. They were probably kissing. The banker’s hands were probably buried in Charlotte’s thick, loose waves. The banker would probably –

No, Erika didn’t want to think about the banker. It should be her hands in Charlotte’s hair. The taste of whatever lip gloss Charlotte had found in her purse. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes dark as she breaks the kiss and leads Erika to the motel bed.

The metal was smooth and gently warmed now as Erika massaged herself.

It was a look that did it for Erika that night, a look that she would never see, but could imagine in vivid detail: the thought of Charlotte’s eyes, dark and heavily lidded, looking up from between Erika’s legs, the thought of Charlotte peering up at her, blue eyes beneath dark lashes, just before going down on her.

Erika willed the metal to vibrate, focusing on the thought of Charlotte there — Charlotte’s lips, Charlotte’s tongue, Charlotte’s fingers — until she came, a wicked pulse echoing through her body.

But as she lay there afterwards, sated and still, a hand on her stomach, the image came to her again, clearer this time: Charlotte roughly parting Erika’s knees, Charlotte leaving crimson lipstick marks on Erika’s thighs, Charlotte looking up at her not only with lust but with love. Erika started the metal vibrating again, and her imagination just kept going, with Charlotte stopping to take her dress off over her head, then dipping down to suck on Erika’s neck while her fingers brought her to orgasm. This time Erika was thrusting her hips as she came, letting out a muffled cry to the imagined vision of Charlotte, who was smiling fondly into the crook of her neck.

Erika didn’t know where all that came from, but she certainly enjoyed it.

Again Erika lay there beneath the motel sheets, breathing slowly, her eyes drifting closed. Normally this would be when the fantasizing came to an end, but then another image came to her mind: Charlotte lying there next to her, so close that her lips brushed against her cheek, her hand across her waist. Erika wasn’t usually so sentimental, but to her own surprise, she imagined pulling Charlotte close as she drifted off to sleep.

==

Erika liked to be on the road by 9am, and at 8:59, she was dressed and packed and rapping her knuckles on Charlotte’s motel door.

“All right, all right, don’t get your panties in a twist! I’m coming!” Charlotte called from inside.

Erika wandered a few paces away from the door, and two minutes later Charlotte stepped outside, her bag over her shoulder, and a wide, almost bashful smile on her face. It made Erika’s heart skip, and a wave of embarrassment flushed over her, remembering what she’d done the night before. She could not do that again, she told herself. There would not be anything going on between her and Charlotte. Not while they were on the road, not while they were working together, not ever. These fantasies had to stop. It was not going to happen. Never again.

“Ready to go?” asked Erika.

Charlotte’s smile flickered. “Ready,” she said with a sharp nod, put on her sunglasses, and headed for the car.


End file.
